


Crumbling Walls

by levviewrites909



Series: Afterglow [1]
Category: The Yogscast, Yogscast "High Rollers" D&D Campaign
Genre: (for the record it /will/ turn gay tho in later chapters haha), Angst, Fluff, M/M, its p gay but can be taken as platonic, mental breakdowns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 22:15:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6584731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/levviewrites909/pseuds/levviewrites909
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A darkly ironic gift triggers a mental breakdown long in the making, but maybe he just needed that mental breakdown (and maybe also an asshole drow to be a pal).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crumbling Walls

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boi! First fic of this ship. Vex and I have been working hard on headcanons and plans for stories. This will be turned into a series of out-of-order drabbles and chapters, mainly focusing on Trell and Cam (maybe not though, we shall see). This particular one will just be the start of the ship, or their less-than-platonic relationship. For the record, I had started writing this before the session on 4/17, so a lot of the things seem a bit out of place (such as the tavern they ended up staying in). I tried by best to make adjustments, but it's fanfiction so who gives a fuck if it's not totally accurate.

Trell opened the door to their room slowly. The door creaked on its hinges, seemingly nosier in the otherwise nearly complete silence. **  
**

It was late. The city’s normally loud cacophony of noises had turned to a slightly muffled murmur. From the open window, Trell could hear the bustling, the sounds of wagons and carts being rolled away, or late night business being conducted.

The stars in the sky weren’t as bright as they usually were, Trell noted. They were there, but there were fewer and they were duller. He didn’t quite understand why, and found it slightly perplexing. He supposed it might have something to do with the city, but not quite sure what exactly.

The room was dim except for the moonlight pouring through the window and the soft glow of the lantern on the bedside table. The scent of vendors selling food seemed to become more prominent as they night grew on, what with people seeking out suppers. It drifted into their room and teased his nose, the mouth-watering scent of unfamiliar food wafting around. He seriously considered going down and buying some, but decided against it.

He reached up to his shoulder where a drowsy pseudodragon lie half-asleep. Tiredly, Granamyr nuzzled into his master’s palm, before hopping off and flying over to the open window. He laid down nearly immediately, finding a comfortable position before falling asleep.

Trell watched Granamyr with a fond smile.

Earlier in the evening, the group found themselves one person short. Cam had retired early, claiming he was tired, which the remaining three supposed was fair. He had been through quite a lot, and none of them would really blame him for feeling like shit.

They had been busy that day, going about and running errands. They had to get clothing for Cam’s performance, and decide exactly just what that performance was going to be. Trell had an inkling that the whole thing was going to be a trainwreck, and he was happy to add onto that trainwreck and create the best damn finale that would definitely gauge a reaction from the audience.

Just an hour after Cam turned in, Trell decided he would go back to the tavern as well. He requested that Jiutóu and Elora return with him. The news of tieflings going missing put him off, as well as the extra information Jiutóu had given about her enslavement by Corvac. Of course the two agreed, not fancying the thought of being kidnapped very much.

Trell was offput by the whole thing too, despite claiming that he was not in the slightest. His knew concern and attachment to his companions was alarming, and he did his best to disguise it as him simply looking after himself. He said he didn’t care about any of the things that they needed to do, even though he really did not want Jiutóu being kidnapped or Elora getting lost. He was also just slightly worried about Cam, after what had happened with Dimitriv, he didn’t seem to be in the right frame of mind.

Even thinking that himself was just slightly strange, affirming the fact that he indeed did care about his companions in one way or another. His protectiveness and possessiveness over objects wasn’t new. He had a tendency to be a collector, maybe even a hoarder of treasure and gold, but actual living things was a whole new level that through him slightly off guard.

His connection with other beings before this was incredibly limited. He had no real experience with being a team player, or even just interacting with people in a normal way. Being suddenly caught in life or death situations with three strangers was incredibly terrifying and nerve-wracking, and even if he did get used to it, a part of him refused to think of these people as anything other than creatures he was stuck with until they got to Talis’Val. He thought it was almost ironic that now that they were here, he was worried about losing them.

When he had gotten his purple pseudodragon, Granamyr, he was incredibly overwhelmed with suddenly having a creature attached to him.The creature could only understand him, they had a sort of form of telepathy to communicate. Even if he was more of a pet than a person or creature that could properly speak and didn’t rely on having a master, it seemed that something in his mind sort of clicked.

Even then, when one of his party members died, he wasn’t all that sad about it. Cam and Elora were immensely upset, and immediately were off to try and find a way to save their late friend. He didn’t make many objections to being dragged along the way, though he found himself not really caring about whether they were able to bring Jiutóu back in the long run.

It wasn’t until Jiutóu had saved him from death, that having any sort of connection with his companions was really somewhat of a priority for him. When Jiutóu had been brought back to them, he found himself as happy about it as Cam and Elora were.

Sure, he wasn’t very close to his companions at this point, but he did care for their wellbeing. He still didn’t know Elora very well, or Jiutóu, and only really knew Cam because of the whole thing that happened with Amelia and what she had told him. Even then, Cam was somewhat of a mystery, and honestly the only person Trell was somewhat curious about.

He didn’t tend to want to be involved in any of the “human drama” as it had been dubbed, even though more often than not it included elves and dwarves as well. There was just something about Cam that had him perplexed. For some reason he felt as if he could relate to Cam the most out of all of them. He had an inkling that Cam wasn’t actually the charismatic, confident man that he tried so hard to be.

This became impossibly clear after what happened to Dimitriv. Trell worked it out in his head, the basics of Cam Buckland at that point. Similarly to Trell, he had a sort of wall to keep others from realizing about things he didn’t want people to know. Cam’s wall was acting as if he felt true confidence in himself and acting like a bit of a twat most of the time. Trell held onto the wall of being mysteriously quiet and not caring about others, a “tough guy” sort of persona.

In fact, the relation and connection he felt to Cam in that way was probably the only reason he had went to go see him after he was taken into custody by the guards in the town. Trell, did not want for Cam to have to in Faeden and he did not want to go to Talis’Val without him, which was absolutely insane considering before this Trellimar wanted nothing to do with these other beings.

Trell was confusing himself at this point. Why the hell would he go down to Buckland, visit him after he had just killed a man, and give him a pep talk? Trell even said out loud that he would rather take legal consequences, than have Cam take them. Trell _offered_ to break Cam out and escape. Trell _said_ that he wanted to get the old Buckland back.

Trell was realizing that he was getting way too invested in these people’s lives. He was caring far too much for them, and couldn’t help it at all, and that just added onto why he was so terrified at what was happening to himself.

His growing attachment to his companions was what he supposed prompted himself to sneak away after escorting Jiutóu and Elora back to the place they were staying. Earlier that day, he had somehow managed to sneak about and find a blacksmith while they were exploring the Stacks. He ordered and paid for a dagger to be made, one with a special engraving. Why he was doing this for Cam, he wasn’t  sure, but he had listened to Cam drone on and on about stories of his daggers. He knew that the daggers were very significant to him, and this was something he needed.

“Buckland.”

Cam didn’t respond. He was laying on the bed furthest from the door, staring at the wall (or possibly out the window, Trell couldn’t tell). He had his back to Trell, lying completely still above the covers. His things were set out on the bedside table and on the floor besides it. His daggers were all laid out in a straight line, with his bandana folded carefully besides them. His pack and pouches were on the floor, open as if he had been digging through it.

“Buckland.” Trell’s fingers touched the cold handle of the dagger tucked into his pouch. His thumb rubbed over the dips where the engravings were made.

Again, there was no response. Cam didn’t even move. For a moment Trell thought that he might be asleep, but he looked too tense and rigid to be sleeping.

“Buckland, don’t ignore me.”

“What d’you want?” Cam’s voice sounded different than it usually did. He sounded disgruntled as opposed to his usually teasing nature. His voice sounded as if it was being held down, being dragged by something heavier than he could handle.

“Are you alright?”

“Obviously not.”

“Cam, c’mon-”

“Why do you even care? Fuck off.”

That was a good point, Trell supposed. Why _did_ he care? Why did he even care about any of them, why did he care about Cam at all? Why did he feel so close to him, why did…

“Why wouldn’t I care, you git. Stop being like this.”

Cam didn’t respond, and Trellimar sighed.

He walked over to the bedside table, and started setting his own things down. He slipped off his cloak and folded it nicely, laying it down next to the armor he had already pulled off.

Trell walked over to Cam’s bed, and sat down on the edge. The mattress creaked under his weight, enough for Cam to feel the shift.

“I got you something.”

Trell held the dagger in his hands. He looked over it once more, studying the gorgeously crafted (and very expensive) blade. The handle had a reddish tint to it, swirling around itself like flames and ash. It felt smooth under his fingertips, and he briefly ran his thumb over the engravings he had requested to be added. The simple letter “D” was carved into it, with a small flame underneath it. It wasn’t anything terribly dangerous looking, more like a flame you would see on a candle. The blade itself was sleek and silver, sharp with a slightly curved tip for whatever reason. He had told the blacksmith that he could care less what kind it was, just that it was a dagger and had those engravings on it.

“Why did you get me something? I don’t deserve anything.”

Trell rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be like that, Buckland. Be appreciative, I got you a gift.” Trell had twisted so he could stare at Cam’s form. He was very still, very tense. It was kind of unnerving seeing him like that. His boots were already off, his feet covered in hole-y socks.

“Cam, would you stop being a dick and accept the gift? It was expensive.”

“You shouldn’t spend the group’s money on me.”

“I spent my own.”

“That’s even worse.” There was a pause, and then Cam sat up and turned, giving Trell a perplexed look. “Hold on, I’m sorry, you, Trellimar Aleath, purchased something for me with his own money?”

Trell nodded, and held out the dagger.

Cam’s eyes were drawn to it immediately. He took it carefully, and brought it closer to his face for inspection. He marveled over the design of it, continuously rubbing his fingers over the handle and blade.

“I took to noticing each of your daggers had a story behind it, Buckland. Whether it be incredibly mundane or meaningful. I’m not sure whether you realized, when you told the stories, that we weren’t really listening- Or at least, I was pretending not to listen and…” Trell trailed off.

Cam was silent. He stared with wide eyes at the engravings, immediately understanding what it meant.

“You fucked up, Buckland. So what? Don’t we all? Your mistake was quite a terrible one, yes, but- I think you’ll get through it just like you did last time. All I know for sure is that it was a mistake, I know you didn’t mean it. As much as I pretend to not give a shit about all of you, I do know you well enough to figure out you’re not a murderer.”

Cam looked up at Trell, still not speaking.

“I guess you could consider it as something to remember him by, something you can have. I felt like it would kind of fit in with the one that you used to have from that one girl, and the-”

Cam bursted out into tears immediately, interrupting Trell’s explanation. He threw the dagger down onto the mattress, and it bounced and thumped onto the floor. He stood up from the bed and turned towards the wall. He was visibly shaking, fists clenched at his sides as he sobbed in an almost painful way.

Trell watched, unsure of what to do. He had never seen Cam like this, never seen anyone like this. And suddenly his companion was bringing a fist back and punching the wall _hard_. The sound of plaster cracking echoed in the silence along with angry sobs.

Trell sprung into action, hopping over the bed to get to Cam. He really didn't want to have to pay for property damage, or deal with Cam breaking his hand.

“Cam, mate, easy.” Trell grabbed his elbow before he could swing his fist again, and wrapped his other arm around him to pull him back from the wall. He was prepared to hold him back incase he started fighting, but he didn’t. Cam just slumped back against Trell’s arms. He cried openly, sobbing loudly. He babbled incoherent nonsense, and his legs more like jelly than legs as they wobbled. He fell forward, and Trell wrapped his other arm around his middle to catch him.

“Hey, hey, c’mon. Easy, Cam, easy.”

Trell did his best to hold Cam up, carefully stepping backwards until the back of his legs hit the bed.

“Cam, take deep breaths please.”

Trell turned around, and took a deep breath. He twisted Cam around in his arms, and like a rag doll Cam complied without any sort argument. Trell held onto his shoulders and gently sat him down on the bed. It was almost alarming to make eye contact with Cam like this. His eyes were red and puffy, his face screwed up as sobs ripped from his chest. He quickly dropped his head away from Trell’s gaze though.

“Why don’t you go sit up by the pillows, I think you need some rest-”

Cam’s eyes widened with fear and he suddenly jerked his head up from looking down.

“No! No! I don’t- No! Please don’t make me! Please don’t make me!” Cam babbled suddenly. His voice was stuttered and hard to understand, but Trell could easily make out the objections and just nodded.

“Hey, mate, that’s okay. It’s fine, you don’t have to,” Trell assured him. His hands still rested on Cam’s shoulders, holding the man up in place. Otherwise he was fairly sure that Cam would just collapse  forward onto the floor.

Cam took deep shuddering breaths and nodded. Tears still streaked his cheeks, eyes red and puffy from the tears. He sniffled and sobbed still, looking so damn sad that it even had Trell feeling bad.

At the moment, it was quite hard for Trell to really wrap his mind around what was going on and figure out a logical next action. Cam obviously needed to stop crying, that was the first priority, but he also needed some food and to sleep and for some reason Trell had a feeling that those three  things would be nearly impossible to accomplish.

Trell pulled his hands away from Cam’s shoulders, about to step away to see if he could find something to eat in his pack. Cam didn’t seem very happy with the idea though. The sobbing mess of a man grabbed Trell’s hands and pulled him closer, looking up with sad teary eyes.

“Please, please don’t leave. Please don’t leave me, I’m sorry, please don’t leave. I-” Cam’s new request was really something to be worried about. Cam was touching him now, really touching him, not just slumping back into him with the force of sobs, but his hands were clamped around his wrists and he was begging him not to leave. Trell sighed.

“Okay… Okay…” Trell spoke slowly, carefully, his voice gentle compared to the violent sobs that shuddered through Cam’s body. “I was just going to get you some food and water. Is that okay?”

Cam shook his head, and with another sob suddenly launched himself forward to wrap his arms around Trell’s middle. Trell tensed immediately, shocked with the sudden incredibly close contact. Cam’s wet cheeks could be felt through the fabric of his shirt, as he buried his face into Trell’s middle.

Trell’s pursed his lips. He wasn’t sure how much he liked this close contact, though it wasn’t bothering him nearly as much as he thought it might.

“Cam. Can you just let go of me for a second so I can sit down?”

Cam was still sobbing, albeit quieter and now muffled into Trell’s torso. He shook his head though, Trell could feel that, and sighed.

“Please, you can grab me again after.”

Cam made no move to let go, and Trell bit his lip.

“Fine then,” Trell cursed, almost bitterly.

Trell grabbed Cam’s shoulder and quite easily shoved him back onto the bed. Cam looked surprised and shocked, even stopped crying for a moment, just sniffles and struggled breaths.

Trell went to sit down properly on the bed before Cam could make another lunge at him. He sat himself back against the pillows and then opened his arms again.

“Okay, Buckland. Now you can suffocate me-” Cam scrambled to move up against Trell’s side, much like a child. He practically shuffled into his lap, straddling one of his legs and again wrapping his arms around his middle. He buried his face into Trell’s shoulder, and took deep breaths that caught on hitches.

Trell was taken aback, not for the first time this night, but accepted the fact that he would become a pillow for a bit. Cam was incredibly warm, and clung to him like he was the only thing keeping him alive. In some ways, that might’ve been true. Trell could’ve been the only thing keeping him mentally stable, and for some reason that fact allowed for Trell to relax back into the pillows.

Cam cried for what seemed like a long time. Trell was sure he would need a new shirt in the morning, and tried not to think about the snot and tears that surely stained the garment. His companion had his fists clenched in the back of Trell’s shirt, holding tightly. He was slumped more against Trell’s chest at this point, and had shifted to the side so that he could properly use Trell as a pillow.

Trell estimated that it had to have been at least a half hour before the sobs gave way. He didn’t realize it at first, but was very pleased when Cam’s breathing had evened out. He had cried himself to sleep, and that fact for some reason added onto the pity that Trell felt for the man.

Trell really was unsure of how to take in the whole situation. He never thought he’d be here, cuddling up next to anybody, let alone Cam Fuckland, while tears dried on his shirt and this man didn’t want to let go of him. And yet…

This mental breakdown from Cam was coming any day now. Trell had a feeling that it wasn’t just because of Dimitriv’s death, more that it was the final straw that pushed Cam off of the cliff. The poor guy had no shields, had nobody to protect him as he plunged into the lonely darkness. He was probably fairly used to being around people, having people protect him practically. Perhaps the companions had served as a distraction from things, a temporary blockade that would break down soon enough. And then it was just Cam by himself.

Trell didn’t like thinking about this, and again his mind was questioning why he even cared for a man that could be so annoying at times. It slowly seemed to click together though, and as he realized it, his obvious attachment to not only Cam but his whole group was easy to see. Even if he did want to make it here, purely to complete his own quest, he found himself realizing he would be sticking around to help these twats as well.

Cam though, still, was a special case. Trell saw the dark place Cam was heading and didn’t like it very much. He could see the shadows of a dark past under his eyes, a permanent exhaustion that would just weigh him down. He could see the crumbling wall that Cam had built around himself, that he had managed to keep up for quite a long time, and pretend that it was sturdy and stone, when in reality it was merely sticks and straw.

Trell sat there for an hour or so, alone in his own mind. For once, he didn’t bother contacting the voices. He let his eyes flutter closed, and allowed himself to enter a calm quiet space in which he could rest.

~~~

Cam awoke later in the day. The sun was nearing the middle of the sky, shining down onto the bustling streets of Talis’Val. Through the open window, his ears slowly began to pick up the jumble of words and noises from the people that crowded around. Their taverm was luckily a bit quieter, but even from where they were the sounds of the main streets echoed around.

His eyes were sore and puffy from crying, almost crusted shut from tears. His nose felt clogged, and his head was just slightly achy. He acknowledged feeling somewhat rested physically, though it wasn’t nearly what he was used to, and he still felt drained (even more in the emotional sense).

Cam’s mind grasped at the memories from last night, and they replayed in his brain slowly in a way that he could comprehend what happened. Trell… Trell had…

He shifted slightly, and realized that he wasn’t lying under the soft blankets in his rented room. Instead, he was mostly lying on top of a /somebody/. He felt warmer though, than he thought he should even without the covers. A strong arm was wrapped around him holding him close, and fingers gently played with the tangles of hair he had tied back in a ponytail.

He didn’t really need to look up to know who it was, and didn’t really want to. He didn’t want to make eye contact with the drow that was for some reason holding him close like a young child with nightmares, but a part of him almost didn’t believe it could be happening.

He took a deep shuddering breath, and simply buried his head into the man’s chest.

“Trell?”

The pillow underneath him stirred. The arm around him seemed to loosen, and the fingers in his hair ceased and then pulled away. Cam missed their comfort immediately, but didn’t dare ask for them to be put back.

“Yes, Buckland?”

Cam took a deep breath. He closed his eyes again, and was disappointed when sleep seemed to not want to take him back into the depths of a dreamless darkness. Cam was still trying to catch up on sleep anyway. He didn’t manage any while he was in the holding cell, and even in the cart his sleep was interrupted by a nightmare brought by Evandra, and then some of his own that his mind thought to torture him with. Sleep just didn’t seem to be an option, and he had specifically remembered last night, staring through the window at the stars, still and silent, somewhat hoping and somewhat not that sleep would come over him.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. I promised I’d help you, didn’t I?”

“You said you’d help me get out of jail, you already did that.” Cam’s voice felt rough and groggy, not his own. His throat was sore from sobbing, as was his own body. His chest and ribs ached, as did his back, and his head was still lightly pulsing.

“My offerings of help were extended to more than that single day, Buckland.”

Trell’s voice was cool and calm. It still had that almost superficial royalty tone to it, as if Trell was some very important person. He had that air to him, Cam supposed. He had mostly kept his head throughout their journey together, in a way that Cam always thought princes and princesses might do. As a young child, a story teller in the Bucklands had told him among others of royalty and such. They were always so proper and prim in the stories, and a lot of time quite mean to poorer people.

“Why?”

Cam still couldn’t wrap his head around it, still couldn’t understand it. He was a killer, sure he didn’t mean to… But he was a killer. Twice now possibly. He could barely remember what had happened with… Mirela.. It was all still fuzzy, and he didn’t even bother dwelling on it at this point. Though, he had an inkling that he must not be guilty if his goddess had not turned her back on him then (though she is now).

Cam just felt sick thinking about that. He was alone for quite awhile before he came upon the other three he was now travelling with. Of course there were the one-night stands, the frequent conversations and companionship with those in villages he had travelled to (though those meant nothing. He had not known them for long, they only talked to him because they were drunk… Probably…). Now, or at least before he had killed Dimitriv, he had “friends” of sort, people that talked to him. They might not of liked him at first, but he did think they were starting to warm up to him, even if it was just a little bit. However, after the incident with Demitriv, he had a fair feeling all of them hated him… Well- With the strange exception of Trellimar.

The long pause between Cam’s question and answer stretched on for ages, for literal forever. When Trell didn’t answer, Cam didn’t press and tried to get him to answer. He accepted it, the silence, supposed that his questions didn’t need to be answered, at least not yet.

“About your performance for Korak, are you sure you don’t want to back out? We don’t exactly have the best plan…”

Cam nodded into Trell’s chest.

“I didn’t feel up to it at first, but I suppose I’ll have to now. For Jiutóu, and Elora will make use out of it too.” Cam took a deep breath then sat up a bit more. He shifted, slightly uncomfortable, realizing this might’ve not been the best position to sleep in. Though it was warm and comforting, it reassured him that Trell would do this for him.

“Good. Well, I don’t know what kind of attention it will bring to the ‘Buckland’ family.”

“Eh, I think we can wing it,” Cam shrugged. He chuckled and shifted again.

“There’s no way Elora will help.”

“Hey! I still think I can convince her.”

“We’ll see…” Trell trailed off. “Y’know, the lady mentioned it being a song and dance performance, and your plan has no song or dance involved.”

Cam’s brow furrowed, and then his eyes widened.

“Shit… I mean, I can dance, but I don’t think it’s the kind of dancing that will make the best impression…” Cam thought back to nights of grinding against others in a bustling pub, or drunken lapdances.

“And I’ll assume you can’t sing?”

“Like I said before, I was the Buckland that stole things. Not the one that performed... Too late to change things now, though.”

Trell considered mentioning his decent singing voice, thought back to singing with his mother when things were better. He shook that memory off though.

“You said that your family did lots of different things for entertainment. Singing, dancing, dagger tricks, magicians… I’ll assume fire eaters and sword swallowers were also a thing then? A sort of circus… Did they even try to teach you those sort of things,” Trell questioned. Cam tried not to dwell on the fact that he was asking in the first place. There was no way he could really care about his past, it was just a casual question.

“We’re traveling gypsies, we were taught lots of things.” Cam smiled fondly at the memory. “I was shit at fire eating, but quite good at swallowing swords.” He paused and smirked up at Trell. “It’s like I don’t have a gag reflex.”

Trell laughed slightly. The feeling vibrated through his lungs, and Cam could feel it from how they were sat.

“Well, then, Buckland. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Cam raised an eyebrow, and took Trell’s teasing tone into consideration.

“Well, I might be a bit rusty.”

“I’ll help you practice.” Trell winked, then shoved lightly at Cam. “Alright, c’mon, up you go. We have to go meet up with the others.”

Cam slowly heaved himself off of Trell. He stretched when he stood, hearing multiple bones in his body crack.

“Ugh, my back hurts.”

“Oh no, poor you,” Trell murmured sarcastically. He started redressing, pulling on his cloak and boots. “At least you didn’t have to endure a snoring, drooling, human on top of you all night. My shirt is soaked.”

“You were the one that pulled me onto your lap.”

“Correction, _you_ crawled onto my lap.”

“You let me stay.”

“I’m not heartless. I wasn’t going to push a crying man having a breakdown onto the floor. Is that what you think of me,” Trell scoffed. He raised an eyebrow, smile tugging at his lips to show he was teasing.

“Well, you _are_ a drow.”

“A drow that’s saved your ass multiple times.”

“Wasn’t I the one saving you after you died how many times?”

Trell paused at this, mouth agape as he tried to think of a comeback. He couldn’t find one, and just frowned.

“Shut up, c’mon. They’re waiting.”

Their teasing banter lapsed into a not-so-awkward quietness (despite the acknowledgement of the events that occurred last night. Trell stood from on the bed, and Cam could only watch. Trell started strapping on and buckling leather straps that he used to hold his belongings. He secured his belongings in place, then threw his bag over his shoulder. He put the cloak on over it, tying it at his neck.

He finally looked up at Cam and smiled, lightly shoving at his shoulder.

“C’mon, Buckland. Get a move on. We’ve got things to do.”

Trell looked around the room and spotted Granamyr, napping lazily on the windowsill. His tail swung over the edge, scratching the wall. His purple scales reflected pink in the sunlight, looking brighter and almost sparkly.

“Granamyr,” Trell called, and the pseudodragon lazily lifted his head. Granamyr yawned, tongue flicking over his lips. He made gentle purring noises as he stood and stretched, arching his back almost like a cat would. Granamyr bent his knees and got into a takeoff position, jumping off the edge of the bed and flying to curl around Trell’s shoulder. He mewled and rubbed his cheek on trell’s neck, purring and nuzzling closer.

Trell smiled and looked at Cam.

“We’ll meet you down, okay? Just hurry up.”

Cam nodded and waved, watching Trell step outside the door into the hall.

Cam’s stomach bubbled strangely, feeling far too warm. He shook the feeling off though, pleased with how the warmth seemed to distract him from other, darker thoughts.


End file.
